A Chance To Be Special
by Unlikely Hiro
Summary: Madness is not a guarantee when dealing with the emotionally unstable.  Had the right words been said, or the right things had happened, what had become evil would have instead become good. If it had gone right, Sylar could have been a hero.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter I: In His Own Image**

_Was there any warning of their arrival? A sign, a single event that set this chain into motion? Was it a whisper in God's ear?…And if we could mark that single moment in time, that first hint of the prophecy of approaching danger, would we have done anything differently? Could it have been stopped?_

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for Chandra Suresh," Peter held up the library copy of _Activating Evolution_, "He wrote a book about people with…abilities. I—I think I may be one of them."

The man regarded Peter over his glasses, "Alright. Come in."

Peter stepped into the apartment. The man closed the door, and then walked over to a desk. He began rooting through a drawer.

"Chandra's in L.A.," he said, "He probably won't be back until tomorrow. In the meantime, Mister…"

"Petrelli. Peter Petrelli."

"Brian Davis. I'm one of his research assistants. You'll have to put up with me for the moment." He found a folder and sat at the desk, "Please have a seat."

Peter sat down. Brian steepled his fingers, "So. What do you think you can do?" Brian held the pose as he explained how he both flew and sketched the future.

Brian stared at him for a moment after he finished. He picked up a cup on the desk and took out all of the pencils and pens in it. He slammed it down in front of Peter.

"Imagine this flying."

"What?"

"Trust me on this."

Peter shrugged and stared at the cup. It sat there as if it was mocking him. Just as he was about to give up, the cup lifted off the table—and hit Brian in the nose.

"It's all right!" he said. He took off his glasses and examined them. They were bent at the nose bridge. "I was able to block most of it." He narrowed his eyes and the glasses bent themselves back into the proper angle.

"What just happened?"

"You absorbed my ability Mr. Petrelli." He opened the folder and flipped through some of its pages, "You would appear to have what we call mimicry."

Peter leaned towards the desk and glanced at the folder. It was a number of handwritten notes with the heading "Common Manifestations."

Brian closed the folder, "I don't know why you haven't been able to duplicate abilities outside the presence of them. I know someone who can do that."

"You do?"

Brian shook his head, "It doesn't matter. He's also in L.A."

"So what do I do now?"

Brian stared at him, "Can we go see your brother?"

Peter shook his head, "He's in Vegas."

"Right. And the painter."

Peter hesitated, "Well, I guess, but it's kind of complicated."

"Complicated?"

Peter hesitated again, "I'm sorta dating his ex."

Brian put his head in his hands, "Terrific. I guess it doesn't matter. I tend to work more on the theoretical angle of things. Chandra and Gabe took all the test equipment with them."

"Gabe?"

"Gabe Sylar, he's the guy who's somewhat like you." He began searching through the desk again, "I think we should wait until they get back."

He found a small notepad and a ziplock bag with some small weights in it, "I used these for practice way back. I'd like you to try moving them when you get home. Write down what time you try it and how far they move," Brian looked at a clock on the wall. He grabbed the pencil cup and refulled it. He then noted the time in the notepad before he handed them to Peter.

Brian stood up, "I hope to see you tomorrow, Mr. Petrelli."

They shook hands, "Yeah. Thanks. What you've told me's been really helpful."

After Peter had left, Brian walked over to the map. He crossed his arms.

"Now what the hell was I doing before he came here?"

"I've gone as far down as I can."

Gabriel nodded and took the thermometer from James Walker, "Thirty-three degrees."

"Very, very impressive," Chandra said, "I have the heart monitors ready." He put a hand on James's shoulder, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Doctor, I've done this before." James laid down on his bed, "Let's do this."

Chandra and Gabriel hooked James up to the machinery.

"Current rate is 74 BPM according to the monitor. Gabriel?"

Gabriel put an ear to James's chest, "It matches. You can do your thing."

James nodded and took a deep breath. The ticks on the monitor got slower and slower. After two minutes, he flatlined.

"Gabriel?"

Gabriel put his ear to his chest again, "His heart is definitely beating. I can hear the left ventricle."

Chandra clicked off the monitor, "Can you give me a rough estimate of his heart rate?" 

"Um…" Gabriel seemed to focus, "Right now he's at about four beats a minute."

A few minutes passed. Gabriel checked his pulse again, "He's reached about half a beat a minute."

"Breath?"

"One a minute."

They waited about ten minutes before Gabriel concluded that James had reached what Chandra called his "metabolic minimum": a heartbeat every two minutes and a breath every four.

"You can awake now, Mr. Walker," Chandra said, turning towards the heart monitor.

James's heartbeat began rapidly accelerating. Within a few seconds he took a deep breath and sat straight up, "Half-a-beat a minute, huh? Didn't know I could do it that far."

Chandra began to disconnect him from the equipment while Gabriel recorded his observations in a notebook.

"I've studied holy men in India," Chandra said, "They could lower their core temperature fifteen degrees, sit naked in a Himalayan snowstorm. Nothing like you, James. Nothing."

"Good to know." He looked over at Gabriel, "Now are you going to try freezing me or something?"

Gabriel shook his head, "I don't think it's necessary."

"No," Chandra agreed, "Your temperature range alone speaks volumes."

James clapped his hands, "I see. So is this it, then?"

"Well, I would like to ask a few questions about your daughter."

His eyes narrowed, "Such as?"

"I've found that these abilities are often inheritable. It is very likely that your daughter can do something special."

"SOMETHING special? You mean something different than what I can do?" 

"Potentially very different," Gabriel said.

James stroked his chin, "I see. Do you have any ideas what?"

"Not without seeing her," Chandra said.

"Or a blood test," Gabriel added, "But that's not very accurate in predicting what ability she may have."

Chandra began disassembling the equipment, "If you don't want us speaking with her I understand."

"I don't know," James said, "I'll have to think about this, explain this to my wife."

"You might want me to stick around," Gabriel said, "Hibernation isn't exactly persuasive."

"Nah, she'd just kill you for freezing her flowers this morning," he laughed, "You couldn't have frozen the sprinkler or something?"

Gabriel laughed softly and glanced out the window. A minivan had just pulled in the driveway.

"It looks like we'll have to stick around," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

_We all fear the unknown. That which we do not understand becomes a frightening force that we feel threatens our very existence. But what if the force is in fact what protects our existence, our salvation from a harsh and unloving world?_

**Chapter Two: Moonshadow**

WALKER HOME

LOS ANGELES

"Linda, dear, you might want to sit down for this."

"James?" James Walker ushered his wife into their living room.

As James began to explain what was going on, Sylar knelt down and looked Molly directly in her eyes, "What would you say if I told you magic was real?"

Molly gave him a look, "I'd say you're crazy."

Sylar laughed softly to himself and stood up, headed for the kitchen. He flicked his fingers, and the cupboards opened. Dishes flew out and around the dining room. Linda gasped and grabbed Molly.

One of the drawers jerked open and pieces of silverware flew out, doing a loop through the stair railings before heading back into the kitchen. The plates landed on the table with a soft clang. Napkins came out of another drawer and neatly folded themselves around the silverware. They then deposited themselves next to the plates. Glasses came out of another cupboard and landed next to the plates. As a final touch, the chairs were all pulled out from the table at once, squeaking against the stone tile floors.

Sylar turned around to face the group, smiling. "Is anyone hungry?"

* * *

PETER PETRELLI 

NEW YORK

Peter rode the subway home, alone. He stared blankly at _Activating Evolution_, holding the book in one hand and hanging on to one of the overhead straps in the other. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice when the light in the car slowly dimmed and the sounds of the people ceased. When he did, he dropped the book with a start.

"What the hell?!" he gasped, gently touching one of the passengers ahead of him. The man wobbled as if he was a statue, and almost fell over.

Peter began to panic, and ran to the end of the car. He banged on the window out of frustration. Hyperventilating, he rested his head on the window.

Something rustled behind him.

He spun around and found himself facing a solemn Asian man dressed in black. He had a sword slung over his shoulder.

"Peter Petrelli," he whispered.

"What?" Peter gaped at the man, "Are you doing this?"

"I'm sorry if I scared you," he said, taking a step forward. He smiled, "You look different with that hair."

"I don't know you, buddy!"

"Not yet," He stepped forward, "My name is Hiro Nakamura. I'm from the future. I have a message for you. I don't have much time. I'm risking a rift just by coming here. The man—you have to save him."

"What man?"

"The salesman. In the horn-rimmed glasses. And his family. The breeder, the cheerleader, the son. You MUST save them. It's the only way to prevent it."

"Prevent what?"

Hiro hung his head slightly, "Everything. Listen to me! He must live. His family must be safe. The painter, Isaac. Go to him! He will know. When I call you, you MUST tell me when we meet!"

Hiro smiled again, "You told me many times how lost you felt, before it all started." He leaned in to whisper, "THIS is what you've been waiting for. Be the one we need."

He turned around and began walking away. Peter followed him, "Wait! Hiro, I don't understand!"

Hiro began running, "Save the salesman, save the world!!"

"Wait! I don't understand!" Peter felt the subway lurch as time resumed and light came back in. He shouted, "Hiro! Where are you?! Hiro!"

He began to hyperventilate. He bent down and picked up the book, clutching it tightly to his chest, "Salesman?"

* * *

"That went very well." 

Chandra shook his head as he walked down the Walkers's front steps, "You didn't have to scare Mrs. Walker with that TK show. Was that really necessary?"

"Yes."

Chandra tried to read him, but Sylar was as impassive as ever. Chandra shook his head and opened the door to the car.

"It's better that she knows," Sylar said, taking his seat, "Perhaps their daughter—"

"Molly," Chandra said, turning around to back out the driveway.

"Yes, her. She'll be more open to telling her parents about any abilities that she'll develop."

Chandra shrugged and turned down the street, "I still think it was a bit much, Gabriel."

Fifteen minutes later, they were driving around the dense streets of the city.

Sylar shook his head, "This must be the third time we've been past that convenience store."

Chandra sighed, "We need to ask someone." Spotting a police car, he pulled up alongside it. Sylar rolled down his window.

"Excuse me, officer…" he glanced at his nametag, "Parkman?"

"Yes?"

"Could you tell me how to get to…" he looked at the map, "Sepple-Veeda?"

"It's pronounced 'Sep-uhl-vuh-duh'," he muttered. Turning around, he said, "Go down this street another three blocks and turn right. You'll hit it eventually."

"Thank you." Sylar said.

* * *

ISAAC MENDEZ 

MANHATTAN

Isaac awoke on the floor with a start. He was ringed with paintings.

One, a small hatchback exploding. Another, a man with a shaggy beard and a woman in leather talking in a small cabin. Then, the same man and woman rifling through a desk.

There was also large painting of a family in a van. There were two children, indistinct but clearly a boy and a girl. The father, a man in horn-rimmed glasses, was escorting the mother out of the car. She was wrapped in a shawl and slightly hunched over.

The final painting was tall and unfinished. The shaggy, bearded man was pointing a gun at something in the direction of the bottom of the painting. The girl was waving her arms wildly behind him, clearly terrified.

Isaac glanced at the mural on the floor and then at the unfinished one. His jaw quivered.

_What the hell was this?_ he wondered.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter III**_

_**Come Together**_

_**ISAAC & PETER**_

_**MANHATTAN**_

Isaac and Peter stared at the finished painting. At the bottom was now a man in horn-rimmed glasses, lying in a pool of blood, a bullet wound between the eyes.

"We have to save him," Isaac said, a new sense of determination bubbling inside him.

Isaac's phone began to ring. Peter turned towards the phone.

"Ignore it," Isaac said, "It's a wrong number. Some Japanese guy keeps calling, leaving messages."

Peter walked over and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Isaac? Isaac Mendez?"

"Who is this?"

"Uh, my name is Hiro Nakamura."

"My name is Peter Petrelli. I have a message for you."

Hiro and Ando looked at each other.

"{What did he say?}" Hiro asked.

"{He has a message for you,}" Ando said.

"{What message?}"

Hiro gave the phone to Ando.

"What message?" Ando asked.

"Save the salesman," Peter said, "Save the world."

Ando repeated the message in Japanese.

"{Salesman?}" Hiro said, confused.

"What salesman?" Ando asked, "Where?"

Peter looked at Isaac. He covered the telephone mouthpiece.)

"What salesman? Where?"

"I don't know where he is," Isaac said.

"Yeah, but you painted these," Peter replied

"So did you."

He then walked away. Annoyed, Peter answered Ando, "We don't know who he is. We don't know where he is. We just know that we need to save him."

"Tell him about the guy from the future!" Isaac said, examining the just-completed painting.

"He _is_ the guy from the future," Peter said to Isaac. Into the phone, he said, "A Hiro Nakamura from the future, who speaks English and carries a sword, stopped time to tell me that I have to save the salesman. That's—that's all I know."

Ando was stunned. Slowly, he turned to Hiro and said, "{You came from the future and told them to save the salesman. And you had a sword!}"

"{I had a sword?}"

Ando nodded.

"Get to New York," Peter said to Ando, "We'll find out where the salesman is." And then he hung up.

Hiro turned to Ando, smiling, "{I had a sword.}"

Meanwhile, Peter organized Isaac's paintings. Peter and Isaac moved the latest painting up against the wall next to the other paintings.

"We must be missing something," Peter said, "Some sign of where they are. See, these paintings, they fit together like pages in a comic book."

Peter stepped back.

"There's a panel missing," Peter said, pointing, "What was right there?"

"Nothing," Isaac said, "This is everything I painted last night. But there's a piece about that size. I painted it weeks ago. Simone has it.

"Simone."

"She took a bunch of my paintings to sell. It's with them."

"What was it of?"

"I don't remember. I was high."

"Then we need to get it back."

Peter grabbed the phone and dialed.

Isaac scoffed, "Tell her a guy from the future said you needed it. I'm sure she'll love that."

* * *

_**CHANDRA & SYLAR**_

_**MIDLAND, TEXAS**_

"I'd recommend the chilaquiles."

Chandra grunted, not looking up from his menu, "Are you sure approaching Ms. Andrews at work is a good idea?"

Sylar set down his menu, "Trust me on this."

Chandra set down his menu, "I suppose it can't hurt."

Charlie approached their table, "Is there anything I can get you gentlemen?"

"As a matter of fact, Ms. Andrews," Chandra said, "I think you can help us."

Charlie stared at Chandra for a moment, "Oookay."

"My name is Chandra Suresh, and this is my associate Gabriel Sylar."

"Hello."

"I'm researching people with extraordinary abilities, and I believe that you may be one of them."

Slowly, Charlie nodded. She thought for a moment, then said, "Well, I've been remembering lots of stuff lately. I figured it was just something my brain was doing, but…"

"Is your memory 'perfect'?" Sylar asked.

"I guess you could say that."

Sylar cocked his head to a side, as if listening to Charlie intently.

"Um, guys? Could you hold it for just a minute, I have another table."

As Charlie left, Sylar said, "I think we freaked her out."

"They're always 'freaked out', Gabriel. Eidetic memory, perhaps? We won't need special equipment to test for that."

Several minutes later, Charlie returned to their table.

"All right," she said, "So you think I have a special ability?"

"Depends on how good your memory is," Chandra said, pulling a deck of cards from his pack. He showed Charlie the first five cards, then put it away, "If you can remember the order in five minutes, you may have an eidetic memory."

"The ability to recall images, sounds, or objects in memory with extreme precision and in abundant volume," she said, as if quoting something, "Yeah, that sounds like me."

"Who won the Academy Award for best actor in 1981?" Sylar asked.

"She's not Google," Chandra said, frowning.

"Henry Fonda," Charlie said, "_On_ _Golden Pond_."

Chandra looked at Sylar, who shrugged.

"You want a test?" Charlie asked, "You should see if I remember your credit card number."

She laughed and said, "So, what are your special abilities?"

"I have none," Chandra said.

"I know how things work," Sylar said, "Instantaneously. For instance, when you recall information, I can tell that your hippocampus is secreting abnormally large amounts of acetylcholine. And there's a blood clot in your brain."

Charlie gasped. "There is. They say it's gonna kill me some day. You really are special, aren't you?" she said, sitting down between them.

"You don't know the half of it," Sylar said, "I could remove it."

Her jaw dropped, then she nodded.

Sylar held her head in his hands and concentrated. Eventually, a small amount of blood trickled out of her left eye.

Charlie wiped her eye, "Oh my God. Thank you."

Sylar smiled.

Chandra cleared his throat, "If I may, can we return to our tests?"

"Of course," Charlie said.

* * *

_**HIRO & ANDO**_

_**BURNT TOAST DINER**_

_**THREE DAYS LATER**_

Ando and Hiro looked at their menus.

"{No wonder everyone in America is so fat,}" Ando complained, "{All there is to eat is waffles and French fries.}"

"{You like French fries,}" Hiro said.

"{I've gained four kilos from French fries.}"

"{We need our strength,}" Hiro said, "{Soon we'll meet Peter Petrelli and help him save the salesman's life. It is our _mission_.}"

Charlie came over to their table, "Hey, anything looking good, guys?"

Hiro glanced at his menu, smiled at Charlie, and said in his best English, "Every-seeng good-o looking."

She nodded and giggled, "Wow. You two are a long way from home. We don't get a lot of tourists out here."

"Tourist-o?" Hiro said, "How you know we tourist-o?"

"It's just a guess," Charlie said, "What's that on your jacket? Bachigai. That means 'I don't belong here', right?"

"You know Japanese?"

"Well, I got this Japanese phrasebook for my birthday about six months ago, and I started poking through it last week." She hesitated, "{One bento box with shrimp, please.}"

Hiro clapped enthusiastically, "_Sugoi_!"

"{I'm still learning,}" Charlie staid, still in Japanese, "{Tokyo is going to be the third stop on my trip someday.}"

Ando was astonished, "You learned all that from a book in just one week?"

"Very good memory!" Hiro said.

"Yeah, I remember lots and lots. It's just something that my brain started doing lately. Whether I want it to or not. Um…so what'll it be?"

"You pick," Hiro said, "Someseeng delicious for me. And, uh, for my friend, he needs food for fatto, fatto!"

Charlie laughed, "Okay. Well, I got just the thing. One chilaquiles, and one cottage cheese plate coming right up."

After they ate, Charlie returned with the copy of _Activating Evolution_ that Chandra and Sylar had given her three days before.

"I was visited by this professor a few days ago," she said, "Who said I was one of a select group of people with special abilities."

"Yes!" Hiro said, "There are people with special powers!"

"I wouldn't have believed it if Mr. Sylar hadn't removed…hadn't removed the blood clot in my brain with his mind."

"A man removed something with his mind?" Ando asked.

Charlie nodded, "I know you probably think I'm lying to y'all…"

"No! No!" Hiro shouted. He leaned towards her, "I bend time and space. Teleport into future!"

Charlie's eyes widened, "Okay. So what's the future like?"

"Bad. Big bomb go kaboom! in New York. We are on mission to save the world."

Charlie took this in, "A mission."

Hiro nodded.

Charlie said, in Japanese, "{Do you think I could go with you? I've always wanted to see New York.}"

Hiro nodded excitedly.

"{If you…}" Charlie hesitated, then switched back to English, "Teleport, why not teleport to New York? Why are you driving?"

"Oh." Hiro reached into his pack, pulling out the copy of _9__th__ Wonders! _he had stolen in the future. "Mr. Isaac wrote the future. Show us driving."

"Oh, my, that's you, isn't it?" Charlie said as she looked at the cover. She opened _Activating Evolution_ to the section on precognition.

"'Precognition may manifest itself in several ways,'" she quoted, "'Like Nostradamus, a precog might write predictions of the future. On the other hand, a precog might paint or draw images of the future.'"

She ran her hand through her hair, "This is nuts."

"You don't believe me?" Hiro asked, upset.

"No, I believe you, but it's still nuts." She stood up, "I'll just quit and pack my things."

"Quitto?" Hiro asked, "No vacation?"

"Not with a job like this," Charlie said as she left.

Hiro turned to Ando, "{Why no vacation days? Don't they have to offer them?}"

"{No,}" Ando said, shaking his head, "{America sucks that way.}"

"Quit?" Lynette asked, "Why on earth would you quit?"

"I finally have my chance to see the world!" Charlie said.

"With them?" she jerked her head, "You don't even know them. What if they're serial killers?"

"Oh, Lynette!" Charlie laughed, "I'm going."

"Alright," Lynette said, "But your job will be waiting for you when you turn around."

"I won't turn around," Charlie said.


	4. Chapter 4

__

Alone, each painting tells a story. Together, they can tell the future.

_**

* * *

**__**CHAPTER IV:**_

_**PAINTING THE FUTURE**_

_**

* * *

**__**CHANDRA & SYLAR**_

_**DALLAS, TEXAS**_

_**OCTOBER 7**_

"Are you sure splitting up is a good idea?"

Sylar stood at the Hotspur counter, waiting to see if the car he requested was still available. Chandra nodded.

"You're perfectly capable of doing things without me, Gabriel," he said, "You know how to operate the equipment, should it be needed, and you can display your own powers to the skeptical."

"But…" Sylar began.

Chandra held up a finger, "If Mr. Petrelli is really a power mimic, he might lose control if exposed to seven powers at once. That's how many you have, isn't it?"

"Yes," Sylar said, "And I suppose you're right."

"So you'll expect to meet Mr. Taylor in around three days, if you take it slow, yes?"

"I should meet with him on the eleventh," Sylar said.

"Good."

* * *

_**CHANDRA, BRIAN, & PETER**_

_**NEW YORK CITY**_

_**OCTOBER 8**_

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor Suresh," Peter said as he shook Chandra's hand.

"Likewise, Mr. Petrelli," Chandra said, smiling, "Please, come in."

Brian and Chandra sat down across from Peter, who set his copy of _Activating Evolution_ and the weights Brian had given him on the table.

"I wasn't able to move the weights with my mind," Peter said, "I think I have to actually _be_ with the person to copy their ability."

"That would be unusual," Chandra said, "I would rather doubt it."

Brian concurred.

Peter scratched his head, "Um, wasn't there supposed to be another guy here? Sylar?"

"Yes, but he has seven abilities," Chandra said, "I don't think exposing you to seven abilities at once is a good idea."

Brian opened the file he was holding, "Mr. Petrelli, you're essentially a sponge. You modify your genetic structure in response to the presence other evolved humans." He took out a piece of paper and slid it across the table to Peter, "Since you're modifying your genes, these modifications should be permanent."

Peter glanced at the paper, which was labeled MOZAIC. He read it and said, "'Evolved humans'? Is that what we're called?"

"That's the name we've settled on," Chandra said.

Peter sighed and slid the paper back to Brian, "There's something…else I should mention."

"Go ahead," Chandra said.

Peter took a deep breath, "There's an artist I know, a guy who can paint the future."

"I remember you telling me about him," Brian said.

"Are you sure?" Chandra asked.

"Reasonably. He painted New York being destroyed in a nuclear explosion."

Chandra leaned back, while Brian looked from Chandra to Peter in shock, "I see. Any idea as to when this explosion will occur?"

"No. But later, the day I met you, actually," Peter said, pointing to Brian, "I met a guy who stopped time. He said he came from the future. He had a message for me."

"What message?" Chandra asked.

"Save the salesman, save the world."

Chandra chuckled, "An unusual piece of advice. Did he tell you anything else?"

"No." After a long pause, Peter said, "You don't believe me, do you?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure," Chandra said at last, "Could we possibly meet this painter?"

"Well, it's complicated," Peter said.

"He's dating his ex," Brian said.

"It's not just Simone," Peter said, "He's also kind of a heroin addict."

"Heroin addict?" Brian and Chandra said at once.

"Don't worry," Peter said, "I can copy his power. _I'll_ paint something."

Chandra nodded, "Lead the way."

* * *

Isaac looked up as Peter knocked on the door. He looked at Chandra and Brian, "Who are they?"

"Isaac, this is Chandra Suresh and Brian Davis, they study people like us. Can we come in?"

Isaac considered for a second, "Yeah, sure."

Isaac showed them the picture of the flaming bus, "See this? I painted this a month ago. Three weeks later, it happened."

"Interesting," Chandra said, "Do you have any proof that you painted the picture _before_ it happened?"

Dejected, Isaac said, "No."

Isaac turned to Peter, "Did your brother call Mr. Linderman yet?"

"I should find out tonight," Peter said, grabbing a blank canvas.

"What are you doing?" Isaac asked, annoyed.

"I'm going to paint something," Peter said.

"Wait a second…" Isaac began as Peter started to paint.

"What is it?" Brian asked.

"Don't bother asking him," Isaac said, "He's in a trance. He won't even remember painting it."

Chandra slowly walked over to Peter, noticing his whited-out eyes.

"My God," he whispered, then breaking into a smile, "My God!"

Nearly an hour later, Peter fell out of his trance. The four stared at the painting.

It depicted a woman with curly blonde hair holding a day calendar. It was open to Sunday, October 29. The writing on the calendar was not legible.

"At least we know _when_ to save him now, I guess," Peter said.

* * *

_**NATHAN & SIMONE**_

_**ISAAC'S LOFT**_

_**OCTOBER 10**_

Nathan used a crowbar to open the shipping crate, "You didn't tell Peter about me buying this painting, did you?"

"You asked me not to," Simone said.

Nathan forced the crate open. They stared at the painting inside.

"I don't get it. What is it?"

"It's one of a series, the work of Isaac Mendez, a rising artist. Peter believes Isaac can paint the future."

Nathan scratched his head, "Well, that piece of mail is postmarked this October 26th…"

The painting showed a man and woman in shadow. They were flipping through pieces of mail. One had fallen to the floor, and an address was visible:

NOAH BENNET

9 JUNIPER LANE

ODESSA, TX 79761

Nathan walked over to the other paintings, still hanging where Peter and Isaac had left them three nights before. Nathan stared at the image of the dead man, the largest painting.

"I know this man," he said after a moment.

Simone followed, "Are you sure?"

"He tried to kidnap me in Las Vegas four days ago."

Simone turned to Nathan, who continued to stare at the painting.

"If anything," Nathan said, "He sure as hell isn't a salesman."


End file.
